Swirling Waters Part 38

Elaine felt for the flowers in the tall vase by her side, and broke off a small spray.

"Keep this in symbol."

She kissed it before she gave it into his hands.

CHAPTER XXVI

A CHALLENGE

Olive was at her dressing-table at Thornton Chase, looking searchingly into a mirror.

That afternoon she had been dragged unwillingly to the consulting-room of a Cavendish Square physician by her father, who had insisted on having "a tonic or something" prescribed for her. The physician was one of those men who achieve a fas.h.i.+onable practice by an outrageous bluntness--a calculatedly outrageous bluntness. He had found that women like to be bullied by their doctors.

"You're drugging yourself to a lunatic asylum," he had told her after a very brief examination.

"Drugs? I, doctor?" she had replied with a little surprised raising of her eyebrows.

"Don't prevaricate! Don't try to deceive _me_. You look a perfect wreck.

All the signs of it. Come, which is it--morphia, has.h.i.+sh or what?"

"You're mistaken, doctor. I'm run down, that's all. I want a tonic."

"And I'm a busy man." He rose brusquely and strode to the door to open it for her. "I must wish you good afternoon!"

Olive caved in. "Well, perhaps now and again, when I feel absolutely in need of it, I do take a little stimulant," she conceded.

The physician cross-examined her ruthlessly. Finally he prescribed an absolute cessation of drug-taking, and gave her a special dietary and mixture of his own which would help to create a distaste for the morphia.

"Remember," he warned her as they parted, "you're looking an absolute wreck. Everyone can see it. Three months more of the same pace would make you a hag."

Olive was searching her mirror for refutation of his words, trying to stroke away the flabbiness of her cheek and chin muscles and the heavy strained shadows under the eyes. Yes, it was true--the drug was stamping its mastery on her face, grinning from behind her eyelids.

She must fight it down!

The resolution came hot upon the thought that Clifford had noticed the change in her. No doubt he would like her to drug herself to death. That would suit his plans to perfection. Then he would be free to marry that Verney woman. She must fight down her craving for the drug if only to spite Clifford.

With a curious vindictive satisfaction, Olive took out her hypodermic syringe from its secret place and smashed it to pieces with the bedroom poker. She gathered up the fragments of gla.s.s and silver and threw them into the fire, heaping coals over them.

As she was poking the fire, her maid knocked and entered with a letter.

The postmark was Wiesbaden; the handwriting was her husband's. No doubt a further appeal to her feelings, she reflected contemptuously. But the letter proved to be from Elaine--written at the invalid's dictation by Riviere.

Olive read it with a mixture of indignation and very lively curiosity.

The letter was no appeal to her feelings--rather, a challenge:--

"I think we ought to meet," it said. "I have many things to tell you of which you know nothing at present--unless you have guessed. They affect your husband's position very materially. Unfortunately I am confined to a sick-room, else I should have come to London before this in order to call upon you."

That was all.

Olive's indignation was based on the obvious deduction that Riviere had confided completely in the girl. Her curiosity was roused by the thoughts of what she could be like to exert such a fascination, and what she could have to say. Perhaps the letter was a ruse to see Olive and then make another appeal for pity. Well, in that case there would be a very delicious pleasure in giving an absolute refusal--a pleasure one could taste in antic.i.p.ation and linger over in execution. One could play with the girl a little--pretend to be influenced, hesitate, ask for time to consider, raise hopes, fan them, and then administer the _coup de grace_.

To see Elaine promised an exciting diversion, very welcome just now when Olive had to give up the customary stimulation of the drug.

These considerations united in deciding her to travel to Wiesbaden. She would cross to the Continent alone, her father and her maid being left at home. Sir Francis knew nothing as yet of Riviere--for Olive had told him nothing. She had an unlimited capacity for keeping her own counsel when it suited her purpose.

The next day saw her _en route_ for Wiesbaden, following a letter to that effect to Elaine.

CHAPTER XXVII

WOMEN'S WEAPONS

Olive had a genius for dress. Her gowns had not only style, which might be due to the costumier, but also effect, which is entirely personal.

They invariably harmonized with the occasion, or with the way she sought to mould the occasion. Sometimes she had snapped her fingers at fas.h.i.+on, taken matters with the high hand--and carried the occasion triumphantly.

The ill.u.s.trated weeklies published portraits of her when the theatrical market was dull.

It was characteristic of Olive that although she was going to visit a blinded girl with bandaged eyes, yet when she left the Hotel Quisisana at Wiesbaden for the surgical home she had dressed studiously for the occasion. The part to be dressed was that of "the outraged wife." The gown was of clinging grey cashmere, cut with simplicity and dignity, with touches of soft violet to suggest sensitive inner feelings. The hat was of grey straw with willowy feathers drooping softly from it. She wore no jewellery beyond a simple pearl brooch and her wedding-ring.

Dressed thus, she felt ready for any cruelty.

A nurse showed her into the room where Elaine lay on her _chaise longue_ with bandages hiding the upper part of her face.

"Do you suffer much?" asked Olive softly, when the nurse had left them alone.

"Thank you--there is no pain now. Only waiting for the day of release, when my bandages are to be removed."

"It must be terrible to know that one's sight can never be restored."

"I don't expect it. But I shall have a fair measure of sight. Dr.

Hegelmann promises it."

"Still, it's best not to raise one's hopes too high. Doctors have to be optimistic as part of their trade. I remember one very sad case where----" Olive stopped herself abruptly as though her tongue had run away with her. "Pardon me--I was forgetting."

"I know," affirmed Elaine happily.

"You know what?"

"That I shall have a fair measure of sight. The doctor tells me recovery depends largely on the mental condition. I was worrying myself up till a few days ago, but now I'm supremely happy. So I shall recover--I've something to live for, you see!" Elaine reached for the vase by her side and raised a spray of white lilac to breathe in its fragrance.

The happiness so evident on Elaine's lips stirred Olive uneasily.

"Then you've had good news from outside? I'm very glad to hear it," she said.